Perhaps they should stop having such conversations while under the influence of alcohol or of these damn teas, because Lan Wangji can feel his pulse race like a rabbit's, thump thump thump in his chest with no room for anything else. A rhythm so fast it felt like running.
His breaths catch again, as if he's sobbing but his eyes are dry and his face is passive and it's just the shock.
Wei Ying says those words and Lan Wangji is not sure if he heard correctly. He is not sure he is able to process language at the moment, the sound of his heart deafening.
"It's afraid of being rejected," he repeats. "But doesn't have to be."
He looks down at Wei Ying, waiting for a sign. Any sign. More words, more actions, anything to tell him if this is just a dream or if this is just more-- more damn tea, more alcohol, more of this absolute nonsense.
It's too hot right now for anything, and yet, Lan Wangji finds his hands entangled in hair tied up with a red silk ribbon, one around broad shoulders, holding a blazing inferno of a man close against his chest for fear of letting go.
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His breaths catch again, as if he's sobbing but his eyes are dry and his face is passive and it's just the shock.
Wei Ying says those words and Lan Wangji is not sure if he heard correctly. He is not sure he is able to process language at the moment, the sound of his heart deafening.
"It's afraid of being rejected," he repeats. "But doesn't have to be."
He looks down at Wei Ying, waiting for a sign. Any sign. More words, more actions, anything to tell him if this is just a dream or if this is just more-- more damn tea, more alcohol, more of this absolute nonsense.
It's too hot right now for anything, and yet, Lan Wangji finds his hands entangled in hair tied up with a red silk ribbon, one around broad shoulders, holding a blazing inferno of a man close against his chest for fear of letting go.